


Dead Men Walking

by Rycolfan (Snarryeyes)



Category: Whose Line Is It Anyway? RPF
Genre: Angst, Gen, Horror, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-21
Updated: 2012-07-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 10:07:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snarryeyes/pseuds/Rycolfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Returning from holiday, the guys find themselves facing a situation beyond their imagination.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead Men Walking

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for the Whose-A-Thon fest on wl_fanfiction last year - the prompt I chose was: WL based zombie survival, horror-style tale. Please heed the warnings, folks. It's not for the faint-hearted.
> 
> As always, this is a work of fiction (thank god!). No offense is intended to those portrayed herein.

The golden light from the setting sun streamed through the windows as Drew’s private plane hit the tarmac in LA and the engines powered down. Everyone on board began getting up to gather their luggage, except Brad who was snoring loudly against the window and fogging up the glass. He was the only one who’d somehow managed to stay asleep through a patch of rough turbulence they’d encountered over the Pacific. While Ryan’s face had remained hidden under his cap, Colin had known he was awake by the white knuckles clenched around the arm rests.

Greg purposefully bumped Brad on the head with his suitcase as he pulled it down from the overhead compartment, earning an indignant shout followed by a curse. “Oh, you’re awake!” he said cheerfully, ignoring the glare sent in his direction.

Chip and Jeff, who had been occupying the seats behind, tried to disguise snickers as coughs. Not particularly successfully, because Brad then turned his glare on them instead.

“Are you guys coming?” Ryan called impatiently from the front, Colin and Drew already beside him.

“No, it’s just the way we’re standing, man.”

Even Brad forgot about his rude awakening to smirk appreciatively at that one, and it was with good cheer that the group exited the plane. It had been an impromptu two week break to Hawaii, courtesy of their generous friend and boss, and all of them looked tanned and relaxed. Apart from Colin, that is; he actually reflected the sun, or so Ryan had said, laughing. Colin blamed his Scottish genes.

A large car was already waiting by the plane to pick them up, and the middle-aged driver got out as soon as they stepped off the plane. He was coughing hard and looked distinctly peaky as he took their luggage.

“You okay, Bob?” Drew asked, placing a large hand on the man’s back.

The driver waved his concern away. “Just one of those damn summer colds. I’m fine.”

Luckily, it wasn’t a long car journey for the weary travellers. Drew had offered to let them all crash at his place for the night; it wasn’t like he was short of room, after all. They talked and joked as LA flashed past them, making the most of the last leg of their vacation before the next day returned them to the mundane.

Arriving at Drew’s impressive mansion, they ordered food in and spent the rest of the evening relaxing by the pool, an air of contentment surrounding them. When Colin finally called it a night and headed to bed at just gone twelve, the others gradually followed.

 

The bright Californian sun crept through the blinds early the next morning to rouse the most stubborn of sleepers. Some, like Colin and Drew, were naturally early risers anyway, but the younger house guests tried in vain to hold onto their dreams a little longer.

Colin entered the kitchen to find Drew staring into the refrigerator, which made him pause on the threshold. “Do you two want to be alone?”

Drew jumped and turned to look at him, a smile creeping onto his face. “Ha ha, very funny. I was just wondering what to do about breakfast, actually. My cook seems to have taken the day off.”

“Well, I can rustle something up easily enough if you’d like,” Colin offered, walking over to the pot of freshly made coffee to pour himself a cup. “Do you have milk and eggs?”

“Erm…” Drew rummaged amongst the contents of the fridge. “Doesn’t look like it, I’m afraid.”

“No problem,” Colin shrugged, blowing the steam from his mug. “I’ll just go out and get some supplies. I like an early morning walk, anyway.”

Drew looked doubtful. “You sure?”

“Absolutely.” Colin smiled to emphasize his willingness. “Maybe, by the time I get back, the others will have dragged themselves from their pits.”

With directions to the nearest store, Colin set off shortly after and Drew settled himself at the kitchen counter with his coffee and an old paper; the latest hadn’t been delivered yet. One by one, the rest of the guys emerged, bleary eyed and dishevelled, in search of caffeine and sustenance. By the time Jeff came down, Drew was able to anticipate every one of his questions before he uttered more than a syllable.

“No, there isn’t. Colin’s gone to get supplies. He’ll be back soon.”

Jeff closed his mouth, blinked, then shrugged and sat down to pour himself a coffee from the dwindling supply. Drew passed the paper over to a yawning Ryan and headed into the front room, where Greg was seated in front of the large plasma-screen television.

“There’s something wrong with your set, man. I’m just getting static.”

Frowning, Drew whipped the remote out of his hands, pressing random buttons with the same result.

“Like I said…” Greg smirked, as Drew tossed the remote onto the table and went to inspect the set.

“Maybe it’s the--"

But Drew didn’t get the chance to expound his theory because Colin burst in through the front door at that moment, slamming it behind him and leaning back against it heavily, looking much paler than normal. Drew and Greg exchanged a puzzled look at their friend’s odd behaviour.

“Where’s the fire, dude?” Greg asked.

Colin was taking deep breaths, seemingly incapable of answering, his head bowed and his hands splayed against the wood. The others appeared from various directions, having heard the door slam, and their expressions soon mirrored those of Greg and Drew.

“Col?” Getting no response, Ryan walked over and laid a hand on his arm. Colin jumped a fraction at the contact and looked up into Ryan’s increasingly worried eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Colin opened his mouth, then closed it again and swallowed. When he eventually spoke, his voice was soft and shaky.

“The people… they’re all… there was blood… all over… he grabbed my arm…” he trailed off, staring at the red stain on his shirt sleeve.

Everyone looked increasingly alarmed at this disjointed account of events. Ordinarily Colin was completely unflappable, but the stuttering man before them was a shadow of his former self. Ryan seized his arms and shook him.

“Col! Look at me!” Colin lifted his head, and his glazed eyes cleared a little at Ryan’s firm tone. “You’re not making any sense.”

Colin stared at him for a moment then, removing himself from Ryan’s grip, he headed for the stairs.

“Where are you going?” Ryan called, exasperated.

“Just follow me… all of you.”

With a deepening sense of unease, the group did as he asked. Colin led them up the stairs, along a broad landing, past the many guest rooms, until he came to a large window at the side of the house which looked onto the street beyond the property’s high wall. He pulled back the drapes, and the rest of them moved forward curiously… but nothing prepared them for the scene he revealed.

The people on the street below, if you could still call them people, were moving slowly, stiffly, dragging their feet along the ground. Blood spattered their ripped clothes, revealing gaping wounds on their mangled bodies. Limbs were hanging off or missing entirely, and their mouths hung open while their blank eyes stared unblinkingly.

Several bodies littered the ground, one of which was still being feasted upon by the walking dead. The whole thing was reminiscent of a horror movie… except there were no cameras around and no director yelling ‘Cut!’ This was very real.

There was a string of shocked expletives as the guys stared out of the window, unable to believe what their eyes were seeing. Drew turned back to Colin, his face pale.

“What the fuck is going on?”

Colin let the drapes fall back across the window. He appeared more composed than he had been a few minutes earlier, a little more like himself. He was certainly more composed than the rest of them were now. All of them appeared to be shell-shocked, and were looking to him for some kind of answer. He let out a deep sigh.

“I didn’t see anyone at all at first - no cars, no cyclists, nobody out walking their dog - but at the time I didn’t think anything of it. It was still early. It wasn’t until I walked inside the store that they started appearing. I only just managed to get out of there.” 

He visibly swallowed at the memory, and Ryan reached out a hand supportively. Regaining his composure, Colin continued, “I think it was that sickness that everyone seemed to have. Somehow it’s turned them all into…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“Zombies?” Brad asked incredulously.

“We’re in the fucking twilight zone,” Greg said, leaning back against the wall for support. “We should have stayed in Hawaii.”

Drew sank down onto the windowsill, looking dazed. “Pretty much everyone we came across from the airport back to the house was sick… I thought it was just another flu epidemic. _Shit!_ ”

“It must be some kind of new plague,” Ryan murmured, running a hand through his hair like he always did when he was anxious, “except it doesn’t kill you completely; it turns you into… that.” He gestured in the direction of the window.

The heavy silence was broken by a series of coughs, and all eyes immediately swivelled towards the source.

“What?” Chip said defensively. Everyone was staring at him as if he was an unexploded bomb. “I just had a dry throat.”

“Dude,” Jeff began slowly, shaking his head; “in a list of the worst possible moments to cough, that wins the prize.”

Chip opened his mouth to utter a retort but a loud crash came from somewhere below, and the seven of them froze in fear.

“The back door,” Colin whispered, turning wide eyes on Drew.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Brad chanted under his breath.

Ryan grabbed Drew’s arm. “Please tell me you have some kind of weapons in this house.”

Drew stared at him, mind racing. “I’ve got a .45 in my bedside drawer, and a couple of baseball bats?”

“Okay, let’s go and get them,” Ryan said quietly, already moving. The rest of them stayed close behind, occasionally jumping at more crashes.

 

A few minutes later, the group slowly descended the stairs. Drew was in front, his gun ready, with Ryan and Greg flanking him, bats in hand. Colin had found an old-fashioned, heavy, metal candlestick and was brandishing it just behind them, while Chip, Jeff, and Brad brought up the rear. Finding the front room empty, they proceeded cautiously towards the kitchen. Loud, raspy, breathing could be heard from behind the door, in-between bangs and crashes. Very slowly, Drew nudged the door open with his foot.

There only appeared to be one of them inside. He, or rather _it_ , was in the process of emptying the refrigerator, the contents of which lay strewn across the floor. Drew aimed his gun, his hand surprisingly steady considering the situation. Marine training had its advantages.

“Hey!”

The thing turned and growled at them hungrily, the raw beef dangling from its mangled mouth forgotten in the face of warm human flesh. There was maybe a split-second pause before it started shuffling towards them.

“Shoot it, Drew!” Ryan yelled, raising his bat in readiness. The others fanned out on either side to grab saucepans, knives, anything to use as a weapon.

Drew pulled the trigger, and the bullet ripped straight through the thing’s chest. It staggered from the force, but kept coming, forcing Drew to fire again, and again. Blood and innards were spattering onto the floor, but the thing still didn’t stop.

“Oh man, that’s just nasty,” Jeff grimaced.

“The head!” Brad shouted urgently. “Shoot it in the head!”

Drew’s next shot blew the thing’s brains out, painting the kitchen red, and it finally crumpled to the floor. Drew prodded it gingerly with the toe of his boot. “That did it.”

“Jesus,” Chip exclaimed weakly, looking a little green in complexion.

“You have to destroy the brain stem,” Brad explained, wrinkling his nose up at the bloody mess dripping from every surface. “Who knew my zombie movie collection would come in useful one day?”

Colin went over to the door and locked it, before jamming the table up against it. Then they all retreated to the front room, collapsing wordlessly onto chairs and couches.

“Well, the phone’s dead,” Drew said, replacing the receiver, “and I’m willing to bet our cell phones are useless, too.” There was a rustling as everyone pulled them out to check, then, one by one, tossed them onto the table dejectedly. “I guess that explains why we weren’t getting any television channels either,” he added.

“So what the hell do we do now?” Greg asked after a moment. “I’m not going to be lunch for one of those things.”

“We can’t stay here,” Colin said quietly, resting his head against Ryan’s shoulder. “Thanks to that thing, we have no food, and they probably know we’re in here now, although we have no way of knowing how far this infection has spread.”

Ryan looked down at him, then back at the others. “We need to find out what’s going on out there; find a place with supplies that we can secure until we work out a plan.

“The studio,” Drew said, sitting up a little straighter. “If anywhere still has a working method of communicating with the rest of the world, it’ll be there. Plus, there’s plenty of food in the cafeteria, and we can lock the building down.”

“I hate to rain on your parade, dude,” Greg piped up, “but how exactly are we supposed to get there? I’m pretty sure those things won’t just let us stroll down the street.”

To his surprise, Drew didn’t seem discouraged. “We’ll take the car.”

 

The sound of screeching tyres and engine roar certainly attracted attention as they careered out of the garage in an impressive 4x4. Drew pressed the pedal to the metal down the drive, smashing approaching bodies out of the way mercilessly, while Ryan, in the passenger seat, had taken over possession of Drew’s gun, conscious of the fact that they only had a few remaining bullets.

The pristine neighbourhood that they’d passed through only yesterday was now almost unrecognizable and, as they travelled further into downtown LA, the scene only got worse. Windows were smashed, debris lying scattered across the road, and cars sat motionless in every direction, their doors left open from when the owners had fled. The zombies were in far greater numbers here, tearing apart any living thing they came across, man or beast, and the streets were strewn with the dead or dying, many being feasted upon in their final moments.

“Holy Shit,” Greg exclaimed for the fifth time in as many minutes, his expression repulsed.

“This is not happening,” Brad said faintly, tearing his eyes away from the sickening view outside. “I must still be asleep. Someone hit me. OW!”

“You asked for it,” Jeff shrugged, looking unabashed. He and Chip were careful to keep their gaze within the confines of the car, not wishing to see the demise of everything familiar, while Colin was sitting, head bent, running his fingers across the face of the Mickey Mouse watch he always wore - a present from Deb. The happy face looked oddly mocking in the midst of such horror.

“Er… guys?” Drew called. “We’ve got a problem.”

He pointed up ahead, where the road was blocked right the way across by a jumble of abandoned cars. So far he’d managed to maneuver around everything in his way, but this was going to prove more challenging.

“You’ll just have to smash through it.”

Drew stared at Ryan with a scandalized expression. “This is a fifty thousand dollar car, Ry.”

“Would you rather take your chances with _them_?” Ryan gestured to the horde of zombies now heading towards the slowing vehicle, and Drew grimaced.

“Okay. Hold on, everybody.”

He slammed his foot on the accelerator, speeding towards the blockade, while everyone braced themselves for the impact. With a loud crunch, they smashed into one of the cars in the centre. The impact shunted it forward, but not quite enough to get through.

“Drew!” Jeff warned, hitting the locks on the doors, as the shuffling crowd closed in on the car.

“I know!” Drew shouted, slamming it into reverse.

Hands smashed against the windows in an attempt to reach the fresh meat within, leaving bloody prints on the glass and several cracks. Drew accelerated back, mowing them down. Then he shifted gear and hurtled forwards again. This time, the impact knocked the back end of the car around and Drew was able to push all the way through, accelerating away.

“Fuck…” Brad breathed, looking back to see the crowd pushing through after them before Drew turned a corner.

 

The studio parking lot appeared deserted when they reached it, save for the savaged body of a security guard. Drew pulled up, killing the engine, and everyone warily looked around for any sign of movement. There was perhaps thirty feet between the car and the studio’s back entrance.

“Okay, we stick together and move quickly and quietly,” Drew commanded, taking the gun back from Ryan. “Got it?” Brad did a mock salute, but his heart wasn’t really in it. The others merely nodded.

The first thing that struck them when they exited the car was how eerily quiet the city had become. Normally it was buzzing with life; people everywhere, the steady thrum of traffic mixed with the occasional whine of sirens. Now it was like someone had stopped its heart.

The seven of them cautiously moved towards the door, looking all around for signs of trouble. They were halfway towards it when Chip suddenly said, “Hey; that guard’s got a gun we could use,” and broke away from the group to retrieve it.

“Chip!” Drew hissed. “Get back here!” Jeff made to go after him, but Greg pulled him back.

“You’re almost out of bullets,” Chip called back softly, running to where the guard lay sprawled on the tarmac. Purposefully keeping his eyes away from the grotesquely disfigured face, he quickly bent down to pick up the weapon. But the moment his fingers closed around the cool metal, the guard’s hand shot out and held him in a vice-like grip.

Chip’s cry of surprise echoed around the parking lot, and the others forgot about the plan in their rush to help him. The guard sat up, eyes full of an unnatural hunger, and turned on the struggling man beside him. His mouth opened wide, closing on Chip’s arm, but the next second his head was blown apart.

Jeff pulled Chip up and away from the body, but the gunshot had successfully foiled their plan to get into the building unnoticed. Zombies were now appearing from every direction, attracted by the noise.

“Get inside!” Ryan shouted.

They didn’t need to be told twice; everyone pelted towards the door. Brad was first to reach it, and yanked on the handle. “It’s locked!”

The other fruitlessly tried to open it too, desperation over-riding common sense.

“We’ll have to find another way in,” Drew shouted, leading the way around the building as the shuffling mass closed in further. Another door was only a few meters away, but this one was only accessible via a numbered control pad beside it. Beyond, countless more zombies were coming from the opposite direction.

Shoving the gun back into Ryan’s hands, Drew frantically tried to remember the security code. He started trying different combinations, his fingers shaking so badly that they kept hitting the wrong buttons.

“Now would be a good time, Drew,” Ryan shouted, taking out the first zombie to reach them with a clean shot to the head. He and Chip, being armed, stood in front of the group protectively.

“I’m nearly there!” Drew yelled back, but the mass was upon them and everyone else was too busy fighting them off to answer. “Got it!”

The keypad light had switched to green and Drew quickly pushed the door open, turning to drag the others inside. One by one they stumbled through the doorway, until only Ryan and Chip were holding the crowd off, buying time with their remaining bullets.

“Come on!” Drew bellowed.

Both men turned to dive inside, but the horde of zombies pressed forwards to prevent it. Colin pushed past Drew to grab hold of them, his outstretched hand closing around Ryan’s arm. But as Ryan reached safety, Chip was dragged out of reach. His screams were drowned by the sheer numbers, ripping into him without mercy.

“ _Chip!_ ” Jeff screamed, fighting the arms which restrained him, but it was no use. 

Drew managed to shut the door and sagged against it, screwing his face up at Chip’s horrific fate. Jeff had gone limp in Greg’s arms, his eyes still transfixed on a point beyond the door. The screams had ceased.

Colin was coughing, in-between drawing in deep breaths, his hand still clutching Ryan who was bent over, eyes closed, while Brad seemed lost for words.

“We should have helped him,” Jeff moaned quietly, pushing away from a no longer resisting Greg.

“It was too late,” Ryan replied, lifting his head to meet Jeff’s gaze. “There were just too many of them.” He looked across at Colin, whose coughs were now subsiding, and laid a hand on his back. “You okay?”

“No,” Colin answered honestly, his voice strained. “This is all wrong.”

A series of loud thumps came from the other side of the door, causing Drew to flinch away from it. “Let’s keep moving.”

The building seemed deserted. Nevertheless they moved cautiously along the maze of silent corridors, the flickering lights above them adding to their creeping sense of unease.

“Hold up a minute,” Ryan called ahead to Drew, stepping into the security office. A jacket hung on the back of the chair in front of an untidy desk, but there was no sign of its owner. Ryan bypassed it, heading for the large cabinet in the corner of the room, only to find it locked. He went back to check the jacket pockets and, a moment later, pulled out a bunch of keys with a victorious expression.

The others watched from the doorway as he tried each key in the lock. Finally, a small silver key turned with a click and the doors swung open to reveal a couple of spare guns.

“Here,” he said, tossing one to Brad who was closest, along with a box of bullets, before loading his own. “Okay, let’s go.”

Despite the desperate situation, there was a tiny glimmer of amusement in Colin’s eyes as Ryan rejoined them. “Maybe you _should_ have joined the marines, Ry.”

Ryan flashed him a small smile in return, finding comfort in the familiar banter. “Not a chance; the smart-ass funny guy never makes it through training. Right, Drew?”

“It would have made it a lot more interesting, that’s for sure,” Drew replied, as the group resumed walking.

“Hey, man,” Greg called from the rear, “Since we’re passing the cafeteria, can we grab something to eat?”

Jeff turned to look at him incredulously. “How can you possibly think of food now?” 

Greg held up his hands defensively. “It’s my stomach doing the talking, dude.”

“We should all have something,” Colin interjected, although he didn’t look remotely enthusiastic at the prospect. “We need to keep our strength up.”

“Okay,” Drew said, a little reluctantly. “Five minutes; that’s it.”

It was a smash and grab job, the vending machines having the most easily accessible, high energy, snacks and drinks. Pockets full, and stomachs temporarily appeased, they regrouped in the corridor and carried on, still constantly on the alert. The muffled thuds from the horde outside could still just be heard.

“Here’s the MC,” Drew said at last, reaching a large door on his right. He slowly pushed it open to peer inside.

The Master Control Room, or the MC as it was more commonly known, was the technical hub of the studio. It housed an array of complex equipment, from video monitors and satellite receivers to transmission equipment, and was normally staffed around the clock to ensure continuous operation. It was always a hive of activity. But not anymore.

All the screens were black, the lights off. Abandoned. Drew led the way inside and Greg, the last to enter, closed the door behind them.

“All the feeds are dead,” Drew stated, flicking various switches. “There’s nothing going out or coming in. Fuck!”

Brad frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means we’re on our own,” Ryan replied heavily, sinking into one of the chairs. Behind him, Colin spotted a handheld radio sitting on a shelf. He picked it up and experimentally pushed the buttons to see if it still had power.

“You’re not going to broadcast very far with that,” Jeff called, drawing everyone else’s attention to it.

Colin shrugged his shoulders. “It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”

“Go for it,” Greg nodded, halfway through another chocolate bar.

Trying to suppress the tiny amount of hope threatening to bloom on his chest, Colin pressed the button and spoke clearly into it. “Hello? Can anyone hear me? Over.”

The expression ‘could have heard a pin drop’ was never more apt than at that moment, all of them waiting and hoping for a reply. Nothing. Colin tried again.

“If anyone can hear this, please respond. Over.”

“Maybe there’s no-one else _left_ to respond,” Brad sighed, after the seconds had stretched to minutes.

“Man, you were the sunny kid in your class, weren’t you?” Greg drawled, tossing his empty wrapper on the floor.

“Let’s continue to search the building,” Drew said firmly, cutting across Brad’s retort, and ushered them back towards the door. Colin pocketed the radio and followed behind Ryan out.

The corridors remained silent, and everyone’s mood became increasingly dejected. There was no sense of urgency now, nothing to aim for anymore, and their movements began to resemble the mass of zombies waiting for them outside. The walking dead. A couple of times they heard a crash in the distance and froze in their tracks, guns ready, but no-one appeared, living or otherwise.

After twenty minutes of walking, they found that their feet had carried them onto the Whose Line set. It was deserted, like everywhere else, but otherwise looked just the same as they’d last left it.

“One last hoedown for the road?” Greg joked flatly, collapsing down on the step. “Or how about the world’s worst fucking way to spend your morning?”

Ryan snorted mirthlessly, slumping down next to him. “I always said this place would kill me.”

Jeff wandered over to the piano, lightly tapping a few keys. The soft notes, echoing off the walls, only added to the mournful atmosphere. Colin, looking much paler than normal, had sat down in his chair and closed his eyes, as if wishing himself back to a time when the room had been filled with nothing but laughter. He jumped slightly, eyes flying open again, as Brad patted his shoulder on the way past.

“We should keep going,” Drew called.

“Why?” Greg asked exasperatedly, blinking up at him. “Face it, Drew; we’re the only people dumb enough to trap ourselves in here.”

“There still might be--"

Drew’s reply was cut off mid-sentence by a scream. Everyone scrambled to their feet and turned, horrified to see Brad under attack. The thing behind him had clamped onto his throat, releasing a torrent of blood as it tore the flesh, and Brad’s struggles were steadily weakening under the onslaught.

“Oh Jesus,” Jeff whimpered, unable to look away.

Colin stumbled backwards in shock, almost falling down the step, but Ryan caught him before grabbing his gun and firing. He missed, but it got the zombie’s attention. As it raised its head there was a collective gasp from the group.

“Dan?” Drew said faintly.

It wasn’t Dan anymore. Not a shred of the man they had known remained in the monster before them, his bloody teeth bared. Brad had gone slack in his grip, the gaping hole in his neck still pouring blood. 

Ryan aimed carefully and fired again, this time hitting his target. Both Dan and Brad dropped to the floor with a sickening thud. There was a moment’s pause before Colin dashed forward, throwing off Ryan’s restraining arm.

“Brad,” he croaked, turning him over as the others ran to his side. But it was no use. Brad’s eyes were blank and staring. 

Drew turned and punched a hole in the set wall. “ _Goddamnit!_ ” 

In the echo of his shout, there was the unmistakable sound of breaking glass in the distance.

“We need to get out of here,” Ryan urged, looking around warily. 

Colin abruptly let out a yelp of surprise. Brad’s hand had shot out and closed around his ankle, his chest moving again in deep, raspy breaths. Ryan and Greg immediately grabbed his arms and wrenched him free, pulling him back and away from the rising abomination.

“Let’s go!” Drew shouted.

They ran for the door together, Ryan supporting Colin, and burst through into another corridor which led to the studio’s main reception; a possible exit. However, turning the next corner, they found the way blocked by shuffling bodies. They turned and ran the other way, trying to remember the location of the nearest fire exit, but again found their way barred. Running out of options, they dashed into the nearest room, which turned out to be used for storage, and slammed the door. Ryan, Greg, and Drew grabbed a heavy shelving unit and dragged it across to stop anything else from getting in.

They were all breathing heavily from the exertion, especially Colin who was bent double, coughing as he tried to catch his breath.

“There’s a window,” Ryan panted, gesturing to the top corner of the far wall. “If we push something up against it, we should be able to fit through and make a run for the car.” He moved towards it, but had only taken a couple of steps when a shout from Jeff drew his attention back to the others. Colin had collapsed onto the floor.

All thoughts of escape forgotten, Ryan rushed to his side. “Col? What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” Colin murmured faintly, his face cold and clammy.

“What? Why?” Ryan’s brow creased in concern and confusion, but then his gaze fell on Colin’s bloodied shirt and his mind flashed back to that morning.

_He grabbed my arm. I only just managed to get out of there._

Realization hit him like a bullet. Slowly lifting Colin’s shirt, but already knowing what he’d find, Ryan closed his eyes as his fears were confirmed. A clear bite mark.

“Shit,” Greg cursed, staring at the wound.

“We have to kill him quickly,” Jeff stammered.

Ryan turned on him. “What? No! What the fuck are you saying?”

“We have to, Ryan! Or he’s going to turn into one of those things!”

“No,” Ryan shook his head furiously.

“Do it, Ry.”

The quiet voice drew Ryan’s attention back to the man on the floor beside him, who was looking weaker by the second.

Ryan shook his head again, this time a gesture of torment rather than anger. “Col...”

“Please.” The soft plea caught hold of Ryan’s heart and twisted it. He couldn’t ignore it, not when those pain-filled hazel eyes were locked with his. “I don’t want to become a monster.”

Raising the gun with trembling fingers, he pressed it to Colin’s forehead, every part of his heart and soul screaming at him to stop. His finger hesitated on the trigger, his face awash with pain and doubt.

Keeping eye contact, Colin shakily raised am arm and covered Ryan’s hand with his own. The touch conveyed nothing but love and comfort, promising that everything would be okay. Ryan realized what he was going to do a second too late, and his anguished cry of, “No!” was swallowed by the gunshot. 

Dropping the gun, he cradled Colin’s body to his in despair. “No…” The whimper was like that of a wounded animal. “I’m sorry,” he whispered thickly through a haze of tears, pressing his face into Colin’s shirt. This time yesterday, they’d been laughing and joking without a care in the world. Only yesterday. Now he was gone.

Greg, Jeff, and Drew had turned away before the shot rang out, unable to bear it. Now they stood in silence, united in grief for the loss of yet another friend, but they could only allow themselves a few moments. The door was buckling under the onslaught from the other side.

“Ryan?” Drew said gently, swallowing the lump in his throat. “We need to go, buddy.”

Ryan raised his head, tears glistening on his cheeks. His expression was that of a man who has lost more than he can bear. Kissing Colin’s lips a final time, still warm and pliant even in death, he carefully laid him back on the floor. Then he pulled the radio from Colin’s pocket, grabbed the gun, and stood up.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Greg shuddered inwardly at the dead look in Ryan’s eyes as he wiped his face and moved towards the window. Stacking boxes, one on top of the other, Ryan was able to climb up and peer outside. There didn’t seem to be any zombie activity on this side of the building, as far as he could tell. Craning his neck, he could just see the parking lot off to the left where Drew’s car still sat waiting for their return.

“Well?” Drew called anxiously from below.

Ryan dropped back down to the floor. “We might be able to make it to the car if we run, but I’ve only got three bullets left.”

“So we run,” Greg nodded. 

One by one they climbed up the stack, squeezing through the window, and silently dropped down on the other side. Ryan, the last to go, took a moment to look back at the figure on the floor.

“Goodbye, Col.”

He landed next to Greg, and the four of them started running as fast as their legs would carry them. It wasn’t that far back to the car but it seemed like miles separating them, the midday sun sucking the moisture from their mouths. As they approached the corner of the building, zombies started appearing from behind it.

Ryan, having the longest legs, was in the lead and pushed his way through the throng, followed swiftly by Jeff, but the numbers were swelling by the second. Greg’s arm was caught as he tried to pass. A swift punch to the zombie’s head freed him again. 

Drew wasn’t so lucky. They swarmed on him, cutting off any escape route, and Ryan, realizing this, doubled back to help.

“Go!” Drew shouted, using the last of his strength to hurl the keys at his friend before he was lost from sight.

The mass started towards a horrified Ryan, spurring him back into action. He grabbed the keys from the ground and started running again, seeing that Greg and Jeff were already in the unlocked car. His lungs were ready to burst from his chest when he reached it, throwing himself into the driver’s seat. The zombies were steadily closing in and it took several attempts for his shaking hands to successfully get the key into the ignition, but at last the engine roared to life. He shifted into reverse and slammed his foot on the accelerator, shooting back from the mob. He kept his foot down until he reached the road, then shifted gear and sped away, his heart still pounding against his ribcage.

Jeff stared out of the back window and then sank back against the seat, dropping his head into his hands.

“Now what?” Greg asked quietly, none of his usual snark in evidence.

Keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead, Ryan pulled the radio from his pocket and placed it on the dashboard. 

“We keep driving.”


End file.
